


The Sitcom

by stubbornjerk (orphan_account)



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:31:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/stubbornjerk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tucker is a single dad with a not-so stable job and Church, very conveniently, offers him a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sitcom

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt I gave to tumblr user bacoose, in a Tuckington setting where Tucker is an amateur actor that secretly loves acting out Wash's scripts and it kinda expanded from there.  
> The original series is on tumblr but I won't be updating that again, since I've rewritten so much already (it's just one chapter, don't believe me, i've only rewritten one chapter)

“A dozen donuts for table 12!” Tucker reads the order, strapping on his bag. The baker waves him off and sends him on his way to the back.

Being the delivery boy for the local bakery wasn’t really the most stable job he’s taken. He’s taken a total of five jobs in all the twenty-two years of his life and this wasn’t really his ideal stable job.

Tucker pulls out the scooter from behind the shop and sets off into the city of Blood Gulch in an aqua helmet and barely five notches below the speed limit of 20. How the hell was he supposed to make _fast_ deliveries in this thing?

Anyway, stable income. He’s been living with his baby brother for four years now, trying to keep them off the ground. Junior and he were from a really rich, influential family. He sued his parents for drug and child abuse the moment he turned eighteen and ran away from home with a duffel of clothes, a baby bag, a duffel for Junior’s clothes, and his wallet. And Junior, of course.

With what he’d earned that was supposed to be for college, he bought a house in this small town, took a job as quickly as he could, and started sending Junior to the nearest daycare. His old babysitter, Doc, was a teacher there and Tucker figured he could live with Junior learning from the guy who raised him.

He slows down and leads his scooter to the lawn of a run-down looking house. He grabs the warm paper bag from his bag and knocks on the wooden door.

There was a pause before the door opened. Tucker blinked. Who—

He feels a small hand pulling at his shirt from below. He looks down. Oh. The kid’s a brunet, must have been like, six years old. He hands the money to Tucker. Tucker gives him the bag and gives him the proper change.

Once the exchange is done, the kid promptly shuts the door on his face.  Rude.

He drives back to the bakery in silence, his mind wanting nothing but to return home and have some quality time with his little brother. He quickly glances at the afternoon sun bearing down on him, blinks the flares out of his eyes as he tries to go faster on this goddamn, slow as shit scooter.

He parks the scooter back in its spot when he gets back, taking off the jacket and he helmet and chaining the scooter in its place. He steps inside the air-conditioned bake shop, breathing in the smell of baking bread, the vague smell of coffee, and the coolness of the air-conditioning.

He hangs the bag up on the hanger in exchange for his small apron. He walks out into the restaurant, grabbing his notepad and trusty pen from the apron, hanging out by the counter.

He hears a huff behind him and, slowly, he smirks.

“Gonna make another comment about how your day is _soooo_ boring, Felix?” Tucker asks over his shoulder.

The other man is unamused as he rests his elbows on the counter. “It really _is_ though. All I do is stand around here and take people’s money and I don’t even get to keep it!”

Tucker laughs and rolls his eyes. “That’s one thing to complain about. At least you even _get_ paid.”

Felix snorts at him. “Look at you, goody-two shoes. Looking at the bright side, huh?”

Tucker shrugs. “Someone has to do it. Not everyone has to be a pessimist, narcissistic asshole like you.” He smiles when he feels Felix punch his shoulder blade and winces when he feels the pain trickle down his arm.

* * *

 

Tucker’s out of the bakery by five. Doc’s probably keeping Junior busy right now. He grabs for his motorcycle (thank god for his cousin for buying him this thing for his 21st) and puts on his helmet from under the crook of his arm. He’s tempted for a joyride back home but last time he did that, a police officer pulled him over.

He settles for a speed maybe a centimeter over the speed limit and gets home in about thirty minutes. He parks his motorcycle in the garage and gets in the house, craving some leftover pizza and a warm shower and maybe some cuddling with his baby brother.

Doc was on the couch, on his phone while Junior was next to him, on his back, playing Pokémon like a pro.

“’Sup, guys. How was daycare?” Tucker asks, knowing the obvious answer. Junior flips his DS shut and leaves it on the table in favor of clinging to Tucker’s leg.

“’Was good. I was good. Made more friends.”  Junior says looking up at him.

Tucker smiles, grabbing the small boy from his leg to give him a tight hug and a kiss on the temple. “Damn right you were. ‘D’you get to ask Theta and Delta for next week?” Next week was Junior’s fifth birthday and Tucker was gonna throw him a small birthday party in the house.

Junior buries his face in the crook of Tucker’s neck and nods. “Atta boy. You prepared for your party next week?”

“Yep.”

Doc gets up from the couch and nods. Tucker gives him a thumbs up and his pay. Doc smiles at him and grabs the money.

“Say goodbye to Doc, Junior.” Tucker mutters to his little brother. Junior pulls back a bit and yawns, waving his small hand at Doc.

“See you tomorrow, Doc.” He says before going back to Tucker’s shoulder.

“See ya!”

Tucker walks to the couch and slowly lays Junior down on it. Junior grabs the DS with his feet while Tucker turns on the TV and sets it on a random channel that was airing a random episode of Master Chef.

Tucker walks towards the fridge. “Have you eaten anything yet?” Tucker asks as he grabs the box of pizza and a can of Coca-Cola. There was shuffling as Tucker worked both things out of the fridge and some more shuffling as he felt Junior behind him. He lays down the food on the counter and hoists Junior up next to it.

“Something wrong, little man?” Tucker asks, looking at his baby brother.

“Tucker…” He begins. “Why don’t I have a mommy?”

Tucker smiles gently. “We’ve been over this, Junior. Alright, what did I tell you?” He grabs a slice of pizza from the counter and biting into it. He lets Junior have a bite before he answers.

“You told me,” Junior starts, chewing the pizza carefully. “That mommy and daddy were bad people and you brought us here so we don’t have to see them.”

Tucker nods and swallows. “Yeah, there you go.”

“But you also told me that they weren’t my mommy and daddy anymore and now _you’re_ my daddy.” Junior continues, casually grabbing the can from the counter and taking a sip. Tucker nods at this.

“Well, that’s what the papers say, kid. Do _you_ want me to be your daddy?” Tucker asks, grabbing the can from Junior’s hand and sipping too. Junior nods.

“Yeah. So, why don’t I have a _new_ mommy? Kinda like you’re my new daddy.” Junior asks, genuinely curious now that Tucker’s questions were out of the way.

“Well, that’s because I’m busy, dude. Promise, I’ll try to get you a new mommy. Or daddy.”

Junior blinks. “I can have _two_ daddies?”

Tucker chuckles and nods. “Yeah, dude! It’ll be awesome. It’ll just be depending on who I’m gonna find. Would you like another daddy? One probably just as awesome as me? You know, only less because I’m obviously awesomer.”

Junior giggles and laughs but he nods. Tucker smiles and grabs him and the box towards the couch. “Then it’s settled then. New mommy or another daddy. Probably in the next two months.”

* * *

 

Tucker wakes up that Saturday morning by the ring of his phone. That was in the bathroom down the hall. Junior, luckily, isn’t up yet. He’s doubtful the little guy’s gonna get up earlier than 10 AM on a Saturday. Tucker would have been the same if it weren’t for _the goddamn phone!_

He shimmies out of the bed, feet padding on the tiled floor of their house. He pauses to shiver as the cold seeps up his feet then trudges out into the hallway.

It’s that old Barenaked Ladies song.

Must be Church.

He grabs his phone, grateful that he left the bathroom door open the previous night. He brings it up to his ear, glancing at his reflection on the mirror.

“What the fuck do you want at 9 AM on a goddamn Saturday, Church?” Tucker says.

“ _What, no good morning?_ ”

“No, because I’m _pissed off_. What the fuck do you want?”

“ _Yikes, what kind of creature stabbed you in the ass with a stick?_ ”

“Church.” Tucker said in warning, running a hand through his face. “What the fuck do you want?” He gets out of the bathroom, towards the kitchen. Might as well start with breakfast.

“ _Chill, man. I just wanted to let you know that a friend of mine’s making a sitcom-ish stage play thing_. _I know how you like doing that kind of stuff_.”

Tucker’s eyebrows raise as he puts down his phone on loudspeaker, on the counter. He goes through the fridge for yesterday’s batch of pancakes and the stick of butter from the egg tray.

“’Sitcom-ish stage play,” Tucker mimicks with a teasing smile on his face. “You have a way with words that just _amazes_ me, dude.”

“ _Pays to be a natural._ ” Church deadpans. _“No, but seriously, I’ve been up for thirty-three hours, okay? I’ve been helping my friend over here write his script and cast his characters._ ”

“Wow,” Tucker whistles as he grabs a pan and a spatula from the cupboards. “How many cups of coffee have you had?”

“ _Ugh, coffee?_ ” Church scoffs. Tucker turns on the stove and grabs a butter knife as he waits for the pan to get hot enough. “ _Please, what am I? Forty-two? I’ve had five cans of Red Bull._ ”

“Wow, five? You really that much of an insomniac to need that little amount of energy drinks?” Tucker puts in a slice of butter and spreads it around with the spatula. He grabs the batter and pours some in.

“ _Y-- yeah, I-- I guess you can say that, apparently, yeah.”_ Church stutters after a moment. “ _B-but that’s not the point! I’m casting you as one of the characters. And since Mister Author right here isn’t creative enough to make names for his characters, we decided that we’ll be using the actors’ names._ ”

Tucker laughs. “I’m assuming I’m as close to the character’s description as you can get?” He flicks his wrist and catches the pancake midair. Kinda sloppy. Where are his glasses when he needs them?

“ _Yeah, and I got casted for the main character too. Surprisingly enough, I’m the heavy asshole that no one listens to_.” Church jokes. “ _I get killed by Caboose’s character too._ ”

“Whoa, man,” Tucker says, grabbing a plate from another cupboard and sets the pancake down. “Spoiler alert. Fuckin’, wait ‘til I read the script!” He grabs the bowl and pours more batter in.

“ _Wait, so you’ll do it?_ ” Church asks, hope in his voice. Tucker laughs.

“Do I really have a choice? I’m convinced that you’ll just continue fucking with me until I do it.” Tucker laughs, with a flick of the wrist, the pancake’s in midair. He catches it behind him. He’s gotta stop doing that.

“ _Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole. Now I’m **really** convinced that you know me._ ” Church says in a tired tone.

“Yeah, so, is that all? You really sound like you need sleep.” Tucker asks, genuinely concerned.

Church is silent for a second, then, “ _I—yeah, so, meet you at the theater at five today, okay? I’ll go catch some Z’s._ ”

“Yeah, good night, man.” Tucker says jokingly, tapping his phone and ending the call as he sets the pancake on top of the last one.

Junior trudges into the kitchen and climbs up the stool, eyes still closed.

“How’d you want your pancakes today, little guy?” Tucker asks, looking at Junior.

“Make them really small.” Junior slurs. Tucker laughs and grabs a teaspoon. He dips it into the batter and pours it into the pan, does another one and drops the teaspoon into the sink.

He goes to the fridge and grabs two cups and grabs the orange juice. He sets it down in front of Junior, who’s currently nibbling on part of Tucker’s share of pancakes. Pretending not to notice, Tucker turns the mini pancakes over.

When Junior’s cup is filled with orange juice, he opens his eyes and laughs.

Tucker sits down and smiles at him. He hands Junior a fork. “Bon apetit, little man.”

“I want all my pancakes to be like these always.”

“You got it.”

* * *

 

“What are we gonna do here, dad?” Junior asks, his hoodie going past his fingers and Tucker’s holding pure jacket sleeve right now. Tucker tries not to make it obvious that his heart just did a double back flip because Junior calling him dad is the best thing to hear on a Saturday. Making the awesomest remixes is a close second.

“Remember Church?” Tucker asks, looking down at Junior. The kid nods.

“He’s Delta’s uncle.” Junior adds. Tucker nods.

“Yeah, that guy. He called me this morning and he just casted me to this really awesome acting gig! You’re gonna see Daddy on stage. Isn’t that great?” Tucker asks, crouching down to Junior’s level. Junior blinks.

“Are you gonna be enjoying it?” Junior asks genuinely. Tucker’s cheeks hurt from all the unconscious smiling but dear god is Junior so cute. Tucker picks him up and walks inside the building.

“Hell yeah, I am. Okay,” Tucker starts, tapping Junior’s nose. “When we get home, I’m gonna open up my facebook account, and we’re gonna check out like, a ton of videos when I acted for school. You’re gonna see how fuckin awesome I was. Would you like that?”

Junior nods enthusiastically, eager to find out more about Tucker. Tucker ruffles his little brother’s hair and puts him down.

They enter the first room to the right and Tucker swears he’s usually not this lucky, finding the right room almost immediately. This could have taken longer.

“Oh, hey guys!” Tucker blinks. It’s Donut. “I didn’t know you got the casting call! Man, who knew that Church was gonna cast all the guys he knew, right?”

Donut is fast to get involved with Junior after that exchange (if you can call it that). Tucker looks around the theater.

There’s Grif, Simmons, Sarge, Caboose, and Doc down by the stage. He looks over at Donut who’s now having a very serious conversation with Junior. Tucker shrugs and walks towards the stage.

Doc sees Tucker and looks behind him. “Church, everyone’s here now!” Doc calls out. There’s fuss over at the curtains as Church pops his head out, pulling at someone from behind it.

“Oh, uh, hey, Tucker—Come the fuck on, it’s just nine fucking people here!” Church whispers at the person he’s pulling. He gives one more pull then just gives up, hands up in surrender as he stomps over to the edge of the stage. He sits down beside Doc.

“So, how many hours, huh?” Tucker asks, leaning on the edge of the stage. Church rubs at his face, messing up his glasses.

“I didn’t even get to eight hours over the time I took like, calling all the people casted. That was like, nine in the morning too.” Church says tiredly. Doc looks at him, concerned.

“Are you sure we should have the meeting right now? I mean, we can give you some time to rest!” Doc says.

Church waves him off. “This’ll go fast enough if _someone,_ ” Tucker notices the crack in Church’s voice. “ _Would just get the fuck out of here and give them the scripts_.” Church glares at the curtains.

“Alright!” The person behind the curtains shout back to him. A tall blond man walks out from behind the stage, irritation giving out to nervousness as he looks at the people around him.

He has a pile of papers in his hands.

Church groans when the guy just stands there looking lost and stand up. “Fucking get with it already! God, we don’t have the stage for today!”

Church grabs the pile and gives it out to everyone. “Alright, Bashful McFreckles right there is called David. Just call him Wash and it’s gonna be easy game.” Church rants once the scripts were given out.

“We’re gonna be rehearsing that from every weekend starting this March. Venue’s gonna be at my place, since the mansion’s pretty much up for grabs because the old man doesn’t give a shit.” Church explains.

“Then, we do an episode for every week for digital purposes and maybe, when it gathers enough audience on the web, we’re gonna do it onstage on April. You’ll get paid weekly, and flexibly, depending on how much we earn for each week.” He continues and jumps off the stage and starts heading towards the exit. “If you guys have any questions, all of your contact numbers are on the back, including Wash’s.”

Everyone’s silent for a moment until Caboose pipes up. “He _really_ needed to sleep, didn’t he?”

Tucker snorts. “Yeah, being up for thirty-three hours does that to you.”

Grif looks confused. “Did he really mean it when he said digital release?” He looks towards Wash, who’s been standing there the whole time.

“Uh,” Wash scratches at the back of his neck. “Yeah, actually, he’s been setting up for that. We already have a website for it too.”

Sarge whistles. Wash shrugs.

Tucker goes to Junior. “Well, it pays to be prepared, I guess. Now, if you guys don’t mind, I’ll be enjoying my weekend. See you guys whenever.” He says and goes towards the exit. He actually just really needs to read the script at home. With Junior.

When they get out of the theater, Junior is quick to grab the script from his hands and examines it. Tucker laughs. “Are you _sure_ you can read that?”

Junior looks at the script then shakes his head.


End file.
